


Orange Blackmail

by Juliatulia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, fruit is involved, if u think this is a case fic think again fuckos, just a fic with captial Them i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliatulia/pseuds/Juliatulia
Summary: sherlock isn't always the best when it comes to self-care, but john knows how to work his magic





	Orange Blackmail

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a gif and thought wow, im gonna write a fic here and now!
> 
>  
> 
> i don't think this fic warrants any triggers or necessary tags, but if u feel anything should be included hit me up! enjoy!

He had been on the case for 3 days. Whirring, buzzing and his mind constantly focused on something somewhere else. He filled me in on it. I don’t think he really needed my advice, he picked up clues marvelously quick and unraveled the knots of the tangled affairs, but he liked to air his theories aloud, to a nonjudgmental party. But as he always does this his brain is all merged in; fails to take care of him self. Don’t get me wrong; his clothes looked immaculate, looks almost painted on him and his hair styled and it frames his head beautifully, but he had very little rest and just small scraps of food. An occupational cup of tea every now and then. He didn’t sleep much either. On the Thursday (the fourth day) he had had about ten hours(!) of sleep during the duration of the case and I began to grow very worried. You know as a doctor what dehydration and sleep-deprivation will do to you. You see it in patients all the time and you there are deep problems and they can't "just get some time off so they can eat and rest". It rarely is that simple. At times you find yourself wishing that the patients just had someone. Many are so alone, no support network. Someone to help them. Someone to lighten the burden of things. Someone who would put a hand on their shoulder and ask them if everything’s alright. Many don’t have that. Above everything Sherlock and I were to each other, he was my friend. My only friend at the time. I didn’t like seeing him driving himself so hard. I know its for a good cause that he does this, many will get the answers they are looking for and they will hopefully be able to lay some old ghosts to rest, but I won’t allow him to drive himself to his destruction. To do that he meant too much to me.

 

We were in the flat at the time. Sherlock at the dining room table, googling away, trying to find some hidden connection between all the dates from the eighties. I kept an eye on him. I was cooking him a light lunch, nothing too heavy. Something that he liked. He was all wired, ready for us to leave. Mentioned something about an address in Edgware. He put his coat on; “I didn’t think the 17th of February ‘83 had anything to do with the ‘87 incident at first but I think this is our breakthrough, John!” I placed myself in front of the door. The skin under his eyes looked thin and worn. He stilled for a second or two before a confused look met me. “What are you doing?” I crossed my arms in front my self. “We are going nowhere until you have had some form of nourishment”, I said as I nodded towards to the table. Three pieces of toast, one with honey, two with his favorite cheese. He was in the process of formulating some sort of protest but I managed to quickly shoot in: “I mean you can head towards Egdware all you like, but if you do I will call Anderson and Burns straight away and tell them that the mud samples from the Islington case are underneath the sofa!”. A light scowl was his response. It lasted for two seconds before the coat fell to the floor and he sauntered towards the meal in waiting. 

 

He did well actually. I sat in my chair, watched him. He had some reluctance in him, but he ate it- all of it. Even drank the large cup of tea and the water I had set out for him. As he eat the final piece of the bread, he turned towards me. Made large, exaggerated eyes at me. I never could help it, I always found him funny, so a chuckle escaped me. But I knew what I wanted. “You also could do well with a nap you know”. He rolled his eyes and his head fell backwards. Ever the dramatic. Although at this he didn’t protest. He knew he needed it. Soon, all six feet of detective found themselves in a horizontal position on the green leather. “... sleeping is so boring.” I think he was a little relived I sat the foot down. Honestly, he looked exhausted. “I know it is, just try it for a bit”. It took two minutes from that head of his hit the pillows until he was deeply asleep. I observed him, just for a short time. Just seeing him relax made me relax as well. 

 

A good five hours had passed before I woke up in the chair. He was still asleep. He looks so different when he is sleeping, I doubt most people would even recognize him as the same person. Toward most souls he’s so guarded. No vulnerabilities, straight to the case, no nonsense. I think because I see a different side to him I feel quite protective. He has a larger heart than he lets on. I would go through fire before I let someone hurt him. 

Edgware waited until the next day. The case had been on a standstill for almost 25 years so the clues were probably not going anywhere. The small acts of self care made a remarkable difference. We met Mrs. Hudson down in the hallway, just as we were leaving. She looked at him and recognized the contrast from the day before. He had gained a slightly rosy colour in his cheeks. He had looked quite pale the day before. She didn’t say anything, just smiled warmly at me and on our way we went. 

 

He solved it. Eventually. It took a few weeks, but he cracked it in the end. The stamp-scandal finally sorted. Not bad considering the last witness died in ‘97. 

 

That whole ordeal was back in October. 

 

We were always close, Sherlock and I, but at the start of the new year things between us would change. I don’t quite know how things started, but we were both guilty. Intimacy between us had always occurred, we drifted towards each other. At this time we were both unable to resist I guess. The outcome was unavoidable. The day after his birthday it was official. We didn’t tell anyone. Most people guessed it I think. Many thought we had been together for some time already, they weren’t exactly wrong. The two of us were simply too immersed in each other to spare any thought on what others might think. 

 

It was the first day of February. He sat at the dining room table, computer in front of him, intently reading some police report. Some case involving some missing bottles of Amontillado, a drunk writer, and a grieving widower. He looked a bit peaky. Slightly too pale for my liking. He hadn’t eaten that day, and not to brag, but he needed the calories. I found a large orange in the kitchen, took with me some napkins and I sat down next to him. I started peeling the orange. “Sherlock”. A noncommittal hum was the reply. I wasn’t sure I had his attention. Very few can rival his ability to concentrate when he has set his mind on something. I peeled the orange amongst his papers. “Eat this!” His eyes scanned the screen, the tragedy and the mystery clearly much more exiting than the fruit I laid next to him. “You could well do with some vitamin C you know.” A deep and distant hum the only reply. He only partially agreed. Since things had… changed between us I had more strings to play on compared to before. Food and general self care aren’t was bad as they could be in the past, he had improved, but every now and then he need a push in the right direction. He left alone the orange. I decided to go in for the kill. “How about this?” I settled myself comfortably in the chair. “For every orange slice you eat, you get a kiss from me.” Something drastic happened. He didn’t stir or anything. He sat the way he had done for the past hour and a half, eyes still not looking at me. I simply waited. I knew I had his full attention. Shyly his eyes traveled from the screen, moved his body just a few inches in the direction of mine. I didn’t say anything, just waited for him to decide. “Okay,” he said, barely audible. His eyes finally met mine. I nodded, picked up a piece and fed it to him. He chewed, swallowed and was ready for his reward, all-while maintaining eye contact. He sat ramrod in this chair, not blinking at all. Slowly, first orange slice done and consumed, I leaned towards him. Just an inch away I stopped. I think he held his breath. If someone had dropped a pin in the hallway, it would have echoed all the way in here. Lightly, just as if by a feathers touch, my lower lip ghosted his. He moaned in my mouth. I kissed him, briefly. Him and me where the only thing in existence. Slowly I withdrew. The old methods of physical blockage were an ancient memory, new types of blackmail were my favorite now. Another orange slice disappeared from the napkin. His eyes never wavered from mine. It took only a few chews, then he was ready again. I placed my hand gently behind his ear, and leaned in. Let it be said that he is a fantastic kisser. Our lips slid together and I felt heaven was 221b Baker Street with Sherlock. It takes massive amounts of self restraint to pull away from him, and that is one of the most difficult actions I have ever done. I think we both looked pained at that exact moment. Rational thinking – never knew him. I took his hand in mine, the orange in the other, and we headed for what was previously his bedroom. We undressed each other. One of the remaining slices I placed my mouth as I laid down in bed. He dived in after me and it was soon history. We couldn’t account for where I ended and he began. 

 

We took our time. A few hours actually. Then, a sight I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for; Sherlock Holmes, post-coital, on your shoulder. He kissed me, neck and throat, slowly-, calmly-, seductively. “Can you imagine?" I said. There was that hum again. I felt his whole chest vibrating. “Just a few months ago, me blackmailing you involved Anderson and Burns...” I could feel him crunching his nose against my neck. “Why on earth would you bring those two up now, John?” My fingertips carefully made their way through those beautiful curls. “Strange how things change...”. 

 

We didn’t bother getting up afterwards. Why would you though, when everything you want and need are merely a few inches away. Well, we did get those cherries next to the fridge, but it was a day mostly horizontal and in bed. Later, almost at midnight I heard him say something. I’m not sure I heard him correctly, he almost whispered it when I was nearly asleep; “You’d be insane not to favor oranges over Anderson.”

**Author's Note:**

> i deeply, deeply apologize for using the words "straight to the case" to describe Sherlock Holmes


End file.
